No crime is ethical, but there is an argument to be made that one committed for the sake of doing good and helping those in need is slightly more acceptable – or at least this is what tends to be what guides many stories of people who decide to take enormous risks for the greater good, not being afraid of any potential consequences and ultimately being guided by the belief that helping others will hopefully balance everything out in the end. It’s a slightly idealistic premise (and one that we know is far more nuanced than such a reductive description), but it certainly makes for compelling storytelling, which is where we find ourselves with Tuner, the first narrative film written and directed by Daniel Roher, who steps away from documentary filmmaking and decides to craft an unexpectedly endearing film about someone who discovers an unexpected talent and decides to use it to benefit those closest to him. The film follows Niki, a reserved young man who has hyperacusis, an auditory condition that impacts his hearing and forced him to abandon his dream of being a musician. However, he has since found another talent in the form of piano tuning, working closely with his mentor Harry, who guides him through this unexpectedly profitable vocation – but when Harry finds himself admitted to hospital with compounding medical bills, Niki has to find a way to help his friend, eventually discovering that his unique hearing skills allow him to become an expert at safecracking, making him a coveted member of a local criminal syndicate that soon hires him to work on their team. A fascinating character study disguised as a conventional crime drama, Tuner is a tremendously entertaining film that delivers exactly what it promises at the outset, being as intriguing as it is surprisingly moving, combining several different ideas into a well-crafted, genre-bending urban odyssey that proves some of the most effective stories tend to be the most simple and straightforward, foregoing embellishment for something far more interesting.

Why are we so intrigued with stories of criminals? None of us would ever consider putting ourselves in such a position, yet something about these narratives is so beguiling: they present fascinating parables about the lengths someone will go to achieve something, even if it means skirting the edges of the law. Tuner is a unique example of this, since while it does pander to our inherent interest in these subjects, it does so through a far more nuanced and layered approach, one that feels much more acceptable, and therefore we never have to try and justify our fascination with this film, since the protagonist is involved in crimes that may not be entirely victimless, but they’re certainly as close as one can get given the circumstances. Tuner is a film about a young man who finds himself at a moral impasse, and rather than choosing to do what is moral, he decides to challenge the system, using his talents to his benefit, and ultimately that of his mentor, who is the only benefactor of Niki’s efforts. The film is not necessarily built around the idea of exploring disability in too much detail (in fact, one of the core shortcomings that we can find in the film is that it constantly glosses over his condition, using very vague terms to describe his hearing problems, likely in an effort to provide some flexibility to the story, since even some cursory research into hyperacusis indicates that there were some clear liberties taken with this material), but it still offers a very effective exploration of how those with physical limitations are still capable of using their bespoke skills to their benefit. It can sometimes feel like it is reaching for a kind of idealism that isn’t always feasible, but the general concept that guides Tuner is nothing if not admirable, and makes for incredibly captivating viewing throughout, which is worth something at the very least.

A film like Tuner relies heavily on the presence of the right actor to bring this story to life, since anyone who does not have at least some degree of inherent charisma and a strong screen presence would ultimately prevent the film from reaching its full potential. Roher takes a small risk in casting Leo Woodall, who is undeniably very talented, but still slightly untested as far as being the lead in a film, with this being his first attempt at taking on the main role in a film. It’s a gamble that ultimately paid off, since Woodall is tremendous in the film, playing Niki with the free-wheeling charm and effortless magnetism that made many of his predecessors so incredibly captivating. He has the ability to come across as both exceptionally easygoing, while also playing into the inherent tension that populates the film, which is a fascinating combination that ultimately bears exceptional results. Not many people could make such an offbeat premise work, but this is just one of the many reasons Woodall is someone to watch, since he takes every opportunity to play into the various aspects of this character, showing extraordinary promise and proving his skills as a very effective lead, which is not an easy feat. He’s surrounded by a very strong supporting cast, including Dustin Hoffman, who has a small but extremely sympathetic role as Niki’s mentor, bringing the distinctive wit and candour that has always made him one of our greatest living actors. It’s not a particularly large part, but it is a meaningful one, and every time Hoffman appears on screen, the film feels unquestionably magnetic. Havana Rose Liu is quite good as Niki’s love interest, playing a relatively one-dimensional character with a lot of sincerity that ultimately proves to be the key to unlocking some of the more emotional moments in the film, while the always reliable Jean Reno enters the film in the final act as the primary adversary and has quite a moving arc that ties the film together and brings it to a satisfying conclusion. Tuner is a film that certainly makes good use of its entire ensemble, who not only provide strong support for Woodall, but make their own valuable contributions in the process. 

At first, we may expect Tuner to be a relatively conventional crime thriller, the kind of glossy, stylish film that seems to follow traditions for the most part. However, Roher is far too invested in challenging the audience to just resort to the same techniques, leading to the film becoming far more nuanced and interesting in terms of its execution. This film forms part of an ongoing effort to pay tribute to the effortlessly captivating and endlessly charming crime stories of the 1970s, particularly those that came to define what we often label as the neo-noir era, a period that saw the collision of many different styles into these engaging, provocative affairs that draw the audience in with very little resistance. Part of the appeal is how the film so seamlessly blurs genres together – it presents itself as a gritty crime drama for the most part, but there are additional components that we usually associate with romance and buddy comedy, both of which are equally as essential to the approach the director is taking with this material. It helps that the film is tonally quite distinct – there are many moments of intensity, but they’re complemented by a more easygoing, subdued tone that balances everything out and makes it far more nuanced than we would have initially anticipated. There are some minor instances where it can feel slightly cliched at times (which we can attribute to Roher trying to make a narrative film after a few years of documentary filmmaking, forcing him to adapt to an entirely new set of skills), particularly in how it explores the protagonist’s motivations and presents him as an almost flawless individual who never acts in his own interests, which does nullify some of the tension, but it all ultimately becomes part of the film’s fundamental identity, and the primary reason it feels so deeply captivating even when it can sometimes be quite vague in terms of character motivation. None of these removes the charm that ultimately guides Tuner towards being a mostly positive experience, and instead just helps us understand where it could’ve made some slight adjustments that would’ve elevated it considerably.

Tuner is, for the most part, a relatively conventional film – but that is said with complete respect and admiration, since this is evidently a film that benefits from a very strong approach that may rely on a few elements that we tend to associate with the genre, but in a way that actually feels earnest and authentic, rather than just connecting the dots in the most predictable way possible. Roher is certainly a skilled filmmaker, and he proves that he can easily craft a strong narrative feature, particularly in how it balances so many different moving parts and works across multiple genres. It takes a lot of work, and the results demonstrate all the effort that went into making this a much more compelling affair than we may have imagined at first. It doesn’t always do what we would expect, but what it lacks in nuance it more than makes up for in sheer ambition, which does mean just as much, if not slightly more. Whether we are charmed by Woodall’s immense talents, endeared to the supporting cast or simply able to find value in what proves to be an unexpectedly moving story of a young man seeking his place in a confusing and hostile world, it’s difficult to deny that Tuner is a tremendously entertaining film. It may not always know what to do with some of its ideas, and it can occasionally be quite limited in how it handles the more complex aspects of its narrative, but these are ultimately minor shortcomings that eventually are buffed out by a wonderfully engaging crime film that knows precisely how to draw the audience in and hold our attention, which all contributes to the creation of one of the year’s most delightfully irreverent and deeply moving films, and one that will linger with the viewer long after it has ended.